


Going Down

by sunalso



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kilts, Sci-Ops Era (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 09:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: Sci-Ops era AU. After being recognized for their outstanding work, roommates Fitz and Simmons are headed home, right until the hotel's lift gets stuck, leaving Fitz stuck in the kilt he's wearing and Jemma stuck on what he might have under it.Beta'd by Gort.





	Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the @multifandomwritingchallenge for the prompt ‘skirt’ (September 2018)

“Why the bloody hell did you want to take the lift again?”

Jemma sighed. Fitz was working himself into a proper snit. Honestly, you’d think it was her fault the hotel’s lift had gotten stuck. Or that the emergency call didn’t work. Or that the inspection permit was two years out of date. Or that they didn’t have cell service. Really, it wasn’t like she wanted to be stranded in a tiny box hanging from a cable either.

“My feet hurt,” she grumbled from where she was sitting on the floor and looking morosely at the sky-high pumps that she’d kicked off. They’d cost six hundred dollars.

Fitz ran his fingers through his hair, making it even more of a tangled mop that it’d already been. He was pacing in the narrow confines of the elevator, his suit jacket discarded on the frayed green carpet next to her shoes.

He put his hands on his hips. “At least your mum didn’t send you a skirt and demand you wear it!”

“Oh, honestly Fitz, it’s a kilt, not the end of the world.”

He leaned his back against the fake wood paneling of the elevator and groaned. “I get made fun of enough for how young I look. A skirt isn’t going to make things better.” He pointed to where there was a six-inch strip of mirror running from for to ceiling beside the lift’s door. “I can see that I look like a complete ninny.”

She rolled her eyes. “You look fine.” The pleated, blue plaid kilt was better than fine on him, but Jemma didn’t think she should tell him that. Mostly because she wasn’t sure it was an unbiased opinion. Ever since he’d walked out of his room in their flat earlier, dressed to the nines in a white shirt, black jacket, the kilt, black socks and shoes, and a blue bowtie, she’d been a tad overwhelmed. Sometime in the last several years, Fitz had gone from gangly teenager to…Jemma shifted her legs and squeezed her thighs together.

She needed to get control of this crush. She’d spent the entire awards ceremony feeling too warm and extremely aware of where Fitz was and what he was doing at any given moment. Which she’d had to do because that kilt was a chick magnet. She’d even briefly thought she was going to have to bean Sherry from the geographical logistics department over the head with a handbag when the hussy had practically thrown herself at Fitz. Only, when Jemma had edged closer, she’d seen Sherry frown and realized Fitz was enthusiastically talking about Jemma and one of their joint projects. Sherry might have given Jemma a seething look after excusing herself, but Jemma’s mood had been much improved.

The award was under Fitz’s coat, a plaque given to both of them for recognition of their ‘significant contributions to the success of SHIELD missions everywhere’. It’d also come with a ten-thousand dollar bonus, which they were planning to spend mostly on a trip home, and a little on a new fridge. Theirs was tiny, and Fitz complained his beer was never cold enough.

If they ever got out of this lift.

Fitz was still leaning against the wall and positively fuming.

“Fitz, you look nice,” she tried again. Nice enough to eat. She trained her eyes on the far corner of the lift car. Jemma was certain that she should not declare that she suddenly found herself wanting to lick most of him. Maybe being stuck in a small confined space was doing odd things to her brain.

Or maybe she just wanted to give her best friend a blow job. Because that’s what best platonic friends did when trapped in an elevator together.

Fitz would never forgive her for ruining their friendship and jeopardizing future ‘significant contributions’ because she was having a problem controlling her hormones.

He sighed. “It was a valiant effort.”

“What?” she asked, still pretending to admire the way the carpet was stained in the corner.

“Jemma.” He sounded completely exasperated. “It’s not like I haven’t noticed the fact you’ve barely been able to look at me all night, and it’s not like I can’t surmise that’s because you’re trying not to have a blasted laugh at my expense.”

Jemma bit her lips and dragged her eyes to his face. Of course, she hadn’t been looking at him…when he was looking at her. He’d hardly been enthralled by her the entire time either, now that she thought about it. And her not looking was because she was having a hard time keeping her hands to herself, what was his excuse?

“You weren’t paying close attention to me either. Should I assume it was so you wouldn’t laugh at me?”

Fitz had turned a bit pink. “Um…no. When did you buy that dress, anyway?”

“That lunch last week when you had the meeting with aerospace.” He nodded. “Is it dreadful?” Jemma glanced down. “You haven’t said a thing about it.” It was a basic little black dress, the neckline perhaps slightly more daring than she usually chose, and the skirt was on the short side, but her stockings were opaque, and she thought the end effect was classy. But maybe she’d been wrong. “Oh, Fitz, do I look like I should be standing on a street corner?” She rose and tugged self-consciously at her skirt.

“No, Jemma, no, not at all. You, er…you look lovely.”

She crossed her arms. “This wasn’t how I was planning to spend the night.”

“I was going to go home and play a couple of hours of Halo with some friends.” He scratched his chin. “After I got out of this blasted kilt.”

“Are we back to that?” she asked wearily.

“Yes. And I hope you’re enjoying your laugh because it’s never going to happen again!”

“Fitz, I’m not…oh, if you hate it so much, just take the stupid thing off!”

She grabbed for his waistband, but Fitz dodged. “Um, Jemma—”

Oh, no, he wasn’t going to get away after not taking her very sound advice. She lunged at him, cornering him quickly in the tiny lift. He batted her hands away when she reached for his waist again, and she changed her plan of attack. With one hand she made a feint, and when he grabbed for it, she quickly ducked down and slid her other hand under Fitz’s kilt and around the back of his legs. Standing up, she had the intention of grabbing the kilt from the inside and pulling it off him, leaving him in his boxers. Which she’d seen him in numerous times. They were roommates, after all, and she didn’t know why he’d choose now to be a prude.

Only her hand didn’t meet cotton. Or silk, or linen, or anything.

Her palm was cupping his very naked backside.

Which she should probably let go of.

Soon.

Fitz’s mouth was hanging open.

“I, ah,” she said, then stopped to wet her dry lips. Fitz visibly swallowed. “I can’t help but notice you don’t have any pants on.”

“They felt uncomfortable under the kilt.”

Jemma just started at his lower lip. The entire night she’d been beside him while he was wearing a kilt and no pants.

His eyes flicked downwards. “And you’re one to speak, Ms. No-Bra.”

“There’s sort of a built-in one,” she said.

“It’s not really doing much.”

“I know.” She’d been hoping no one would particularly notice.

He didn’t respond, but he was still staring at her chest, and she was still grabbing his ass. The muscle flexed in her hand, and she whimpered and bit her lip. Fitz’s gaze returned to her face, and his pupils were wide and dark.

“Jemma?” he whispered.

Her breathing was loud in her ears, and she could feel her heart pounding. She should let go, back up, and laugh. It was just a silly thing. An accident.

She tightened her grip and Fitz groaned as she crashed her mouth into his. He tasted of the rum and coke he’d been sipping, and she swept her tongue around his mouth, eager for more.

His hands closed over her hips, and she gasped as he tugged her against him. The press of his fingertips into her curves barely registered as she felt something else poking against her thigh. Heat blossomed in her belly and pooled between her hip bones. Her breasts felt heavy, and she arched against Fitz trying to ease the ache in them.

Fitz’s eyes were closed, and he seemed completely lost as he returned her kisses with equal fervor. She tilted her pelvis and contemplated hiking up her dress to put a leg around him, but that really wouldn’t work with the damn kilt.

Her tongue stroked the underside of his, and he groaned. Her earlier thoughts about licking him returned, smacking into her like a freight train.

She squeezed Fitz’s bum one more time before letting go and putting her hands on his shoulders to push him more firmly into the corner.

He looked dazed as he ran his tongue over his kiss-swollen lips. He reached for Jemma again, but she caught his hand and held his wrist as she sank to her knees in front of him.

Oh, yes, this was certainly what she wanted to do. They could get around to the rest later.

One of Fitz’s hands was hovering over her head. “Jemma?” he asked, voice cracking.

She looked up at him as she let go of his wrist. “I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to all night. More vigorous or complicated activities can be saved for when we have a bed.”

“Right, you have such excellent plans. This isn’t a onetime thing, then?”

“I don’t want it to be.”  

He smiled widely. “In that case, carry on, though I don’t suppose…” he trailed off and blushed.

“Fitz, I’m not a mind reader.”

“Well, just…in case you change your mind later…can I see your boobs?”

She looked heavenward. As if she would simply decide she didn’t want him in the morning. She yanked down the front of her dress, and Fitz’s delighted squeak was very satisfying. She cupped her breasts, and Fitz’s hips jerked in her direction, reminding her of what she was in the middle of doing. Letting go of herself, after one last squeeze, she grabbed the hem of his kilt and pulled it up, gathering the fabric into her fist.

Even knowing he was going commando, it was something of a shock to find his cock hard and jutting out towards her face. She flicked her tongue over her lips as she studied it and the bead of precum that formed and dripped down from the tip as she watched. The head was dark red, and he was surprisingly circumcised, though she hadn’t known she’d had an opinion on it before. Length and thickness were commendable, and her pussy throbbed with delight at the idea of him using it to pleasure her. Getting most of it in her mouth, however, was going to be a bit of a challenge.

She glanced up to find Fitz watching her with fierce concentration. She smiled at him. “I’m just figuring out how much I can easily stuff in my mouth.” Fitz groaned and another drop of precum formed. Jemma leaned forward to swirl her tongue around the head of his cock and lick it off.

Fitz made a high-pitched noise, and his hips bucked towards her face. “Jemma, Jemma, oh fuck.”

Jemma used the forearm of the hand that was holding up his kilt to pin his pelvis against the side of the lift car. She wrapped her other hand around his prick and stroked it a few times while she continued laving the head. He’d tasted like a muskier version of his familiar scent, and salt. It was rather intoxicating.

“You taste good,” she said, removing her mouth from him for a moment. “And I’m really quite turned on. I do think we will be entirely sexually compatible.”

Fitz said something that might have been words, but they were all run together and didn’t make sense. Shrugging, she returned to teasing his cock with her tongue. She licked up and down the underside of his shaft, then dropped lower to suck one of his testicles into her mouth.

A whole litany of profanity spilled from his lips, but she ignored him and focused on the ball in her mouth, stroking it with her tongue in little circles. She switched to the other side with a pleased hum, though Fitz was gasping like he’d just run twenty miles. You’d think he’d never had a woman…

Oh, maybe he hadn’t. Jemma felt a bit odd that she didn’t know that about him. They told each other everything. Almost everything. Well, now it’d be absolutely everything. The thought was very comforting.

With a final kiss, she returned to his cock, tracing the veins down the side with her tongue. Fitz’s hands tangled in her hair. She looked up at him again. “This position is not good for deep throating, so I’ll simply do what I can.”

“De-deep…yes good. Whatever. Perfect. Nice Jemma.”

She frowned. “Are you alright?” Word salad could be a sign of a stroke.

“Never better,” he gasped.

“Tell me if your lips go numb.”

His face scrunched up and his tongue poked at his bottom lip. “Are they supposed to?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay. I’m fine.”

She eyed him, then dropped her gaze to his cock. It twitched in her fist, and she smiled before leaning forward and sucking in as much of his prick as she could.

Fitz shuddered, and his fingers convulsed in her hair while he groaned loudly.

Starting slowly, she began bobbing her head. Her fist swept along at the same pace, and she made sure to twist slightly on each upstroke.

Gradually, she was able to take him a little deeper into her mouth, humming her enjoyment as she did so.

Fitz was mostly babbling her name and curse words, but then he took a deep breath. “I won’t move,” he announced.

Jemma slid his cock out of her mouth, rather proud of how it looked shining with her spit. “Alright, but why is that important. Am I hurting you?”

He shook his head wildly and made the most adorable little whine when she kissed the tip of his cock. “No, no, but…you could…I’d like you to touch yourself.”

Jemma squeezed her thighs together. “Oh, yes, of course. You’re so thoughtful, Fitz.”

She removed her arm from across him, pausing to tuck the hem of his kilt into his waistband as she sucked his prick back into her mouth. She ran her hand down her body. After stopping to pluck at her nipples, which Fitz also seemed to enjoy judging from the noises he made, she pulled up the hem of her dress and slid her hand under it. The crotch of her knickers was soaked, and she hooked it to the side so she could rub her clit.

Her pelvis rolled as she touched herself and she moaned around the cock in her mouth. Fitz made a similar noise, and his thighs tensed as he kept himself from thrusting.

Jemma moved her hand in the rhythm to the one she was setting with her mouth. Pleasure coiled in her belly, gathering quickly and sending her hurling towards her peak. She stared up into her best friend’s face, his look of awe and lust making her glow with warmth. There was something else there too, something momentous that they needed to talk about later.

One of his hands relaxed, and he cupped her cheek. “You have no idea how hot you look, Jems,” he said, voice hoarse. He moaned as she pushed her tongue hard against the underside of his cock. “I’d think I was dreaming, but you’re much better than any wet dream I’ve ever had.” Her hips swiveled as she ground against her fingers. “Is this turning you on? Do like my hard cock in your mouth?”

Jemma was giddy. Fitz liked to talk dirty. She would have been less shocked if he’d admitted to secretly being partial to lima beans, though this was a much better surprise.

“Your mouth feels so good Jemma. So hot.” His thumb swept over her cheek. “Are you wet for me?”

She groaned, and her thighs quivered. Her fingers speed up while her hips made tiny jerks. With a soft cry, she came. Her eyes slid closed as she sucked fiercely on Fitz’s cock.

When the waves of bliss lessened, she realized that Fitz had gone still. He was staring at her with a bewildered expression.

Jemma removed her mouth from his prick. “Fitz?”

“Did you just come?”

“Er, yes? I thought you wanted me to.” Jemma scrunched up her nose. Had she misread something?

“Well, yes, of course I did, but I didn’t think you’d actually…”

“Why?”

He frowned, and it took her a moment to parse out that he was having trouble believing she’d like him. Silly Fitz.

“Oh, Fitz, I’m not doing this because I have nothing better to do, and while I very much like kilts, you being in it is the important part.”

“You like kilts?”

“We’ll talk later.” She drew him back into her mouth and bobbed her head vigorously, working his shaft furher towards the back of her throat. 

Fitz moaned and clutched at her head.

Jemma cupped his balls, rolling them softly as she worked.

Feeling brave, she wrapped her hand securely around his prick and took a deep breath before pushing her head forward. His cock hit the back of her throat and she reflexively swallowed around him. Something caught her eye, and she slid her gaze to the side to find she was looking at herself in the strip of mirror beside the lift’s door.

“Fuck, Jemma. Dear…fuck.” Hi voice was ragged, but she couldn’t tear eyes away from the improbable image of herself, her breasts naked and her skirt hiked up as she deep throated her best friend while on her knees. It was impossibly erotic, but when she managed to look back up at Fitz’s blissful expression, she found she liked that even better. But her eyes were starting to water, and she had to back off so she could breathe.

Returning to sucking on what she could and using her hand on the rest, Jemma started pressing her tongue flat against the tip of his cock with each bob of her head.

Fitz groaned loudly. His sac drew up tight against his body, and his hands tightened in her hair as his hips jerked. She sucked harder. “Jemma,” he moaned, then his cock bucked in her mouth and pulsed as he spent himself. She swallowed, the taste of him sweeter than she’d been expecting, and she hummed in delight.

She sucked on him until the pulsing lessoned, and she let his softening cock slip from between her lips. Leaning to the side she kissed his hip, and he held her close, hands still on her head. Their panting was loud in the small space of the lift car.

When her knees started protesting, Jemma reluctantly pushed herself away from Fitz, straightened his kilt, and took his hand as he helped her to her feet. She fixed her dress and patted at her hair, but it was probably a lost cause.

Fitz looked like he was close to tears.

“Everything okay?” she asked, slipping an arm around his waist and cuddling against his shoulder.

“That was amazing, and…you swear it’s not a one-time thing?” He sounded so worried.

“I was hoping perhaps you’d return the favor—” She giggled at his enthusiastic nodding. “There’s a great deal for us still to explore.” Jemma glanced at him from under her lashes, and she couldn’t resist a little teasing. “What about you? How long were you thinking for us to be together?”

A line appeared Fitz’s brows. It was the same look he got when he was figuring out a particularly tricky problem. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “Jemma…I was thinking forever. All our lives.”

She was stunned, and it was her turn to bite her lip and think hard. What Fitz said made sense. She couldn’t imagine a future without him in it. They were already comfortable working together and living together. And based on empirical evidence, they would have a very exciting and mutually satisfying sex life. Really, it seemed obvious they should completely join their lives. And she had always loved him, that part was not in question. “I need to be clear,” she said. Fitz’s face fell. “You are asking me to marry you, correct? Because that’s what it sounded like.”

Fitz’s eyes widened, and his hands fisted the material of his kilt. “Uh…do you want me to have?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, um…Jemma Simmons, will you marry me?” He swayed towards her with his eyes fixed on her face.

“How can I say no to a man in a kilt?”

Fitz’s brows drew together again.

“That’s a yes, Fitz. Of course I’ll marry you.”

His grin lit up the lift car, and he hugged her tight.

Jemma snuggled against him. “Tomorrow we can move you into my room, and yours can become an office.”

“Jemma.” Fitz ran his hand down her arm. “Did you agree to marry me so you could have a home office?”

“That’s just a bonus.”

“I see.” He paused. “Can we do it on your desk?”

“I’ll make sure we both have sturdy work surfaces that can be used for multiple purposes, including sex.”

“You’re a treasure.”

She kissed his neck right as the lift car lurched back to life. It ground slowly downwards, and Jemma had time to hand Fitz his jacket, pick up their plaque, which would hang on the wall of their new office, and stuff her feet back in her shoes.

The lift door opened to a very nervous-looking man in a hotel uniform, flanked by several other staff members. Jemma smiled at him.

“I’m glad to see you,” she said.

The man simpered. “I’m so sorry, this back elevator isn’t used much, and sometimes…we’re so sorry. We got it working as fast as we could.”

“Oh, no worries.”

“Can we make it up to you? Perhaps an extra night?”

“I think we’re good,” she said primly.

The man yanked at his collar with a finger. “Er…”

“We’re not mad,” Fitz said, grinning.

“You’re not?” the man asked.

“Not a bit. Brilliant lift. We’re getting married now!” Fitz clapped the confused man on the back.

“Um, congratulations?”

“Thank you!” Fitz called over his shoulder as Jemma took his sleeve and led him towards the car park. She was hoping the elevator didn’t smell quite as much of sex as she thought it might, but she wanted to get far away before anyone figured out what they’d been up to in there.

Fitz was grinning like mad as they found their older, black Civic in the garage. He unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat as she settled herself in the passenger side and placed the plaque on the floorboard.

“I thought receiving that award was going to be the highlight of the night,” she said.

“Being stuck in the lift was better.” Fitz did up his seatbelt, and she put a hand on his kilt-covered knee.

“It really was.”

He covered her fingers with his. “You never told me you had a…thing, for kilts.”

Jemma laughed. “You would have made fun of me.”

“I would never—” She squeezed his knee. “Okay, yeah, I might have.” His fingertips brushed the fabric. “I suppose I can ask my mum to send me a pile.” His eyes slid to her. “I could wear them a lot more often.”

“That sounds lovely, especially if that’s all you’re wearing.”

The tips of Fitz’s ears turned pink. “To think you’d be such a pushover for a man in a kilt.”

“Only if that man is you.” She kissed his cheek. “But no kilts at work. Safety protocols. And I might never get any work done. And I’d have to spend even more time chasing Sherry from Logistics away from you.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” Jemma yawned. “It’s time my fiancé took me home.” She patted his leg and sat back as Fitz started the car.   

“I’m onto you now, Simmons. You just want to get under my skirt.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are loved, hugged, and given free lollipops. You can yell at me on tumblr [ @sunalsolove](https://sunalsolove.tumblr.com/)


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